


It's a Hard Knock Life

by Linderosse



Series: It's a Hard Knock Life [1]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Modern AU, Smol Joui 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-15 22:55:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29691216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linderosse/pseuds/Linderosse
Summary: The new kid at school has cotton-white hair, picks his nose way too much, and wears a perpetual expression of disinterest. He’s dull, uncouth, and lazy: a grade-A weirdo.Nevertheless, as Katsura and Takasugi struggle with their own problems, they somehow find the new kid becoming a major part of their lives.
Relationships: Katsura Kotarou & Sakata Gintoki, Katsura Kotarou & Sakata Gintoki & Takasugi Shinsuke, Katsura Kotarou & Takasugi Shinsuke, Sakata Gintoki & Takasugi Shinsuke
Series: It's a Hard Knock Life [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2181954
Comments: 4
Kudos: 31





	It's a Hard Knock Life

The new kid has cotton-white hair.

Katsura thinks it’s rather strange, but intriguing. He tells his grandmother all about it when he gets home from his first day of school; sets his backpack on the countertop of their quaint little apartment’s kitchen, pops an apple slice in his mouth, and talks and talks.

“...and his name’s Gintoki— he’s really weird and really lazy. His white hair makes him look like an old man, but then he does immature things like play pranks on the teacher, and he didn’t even get caught! And at lunchtime, he...”

Grandmother chuckles warmly at Katsura’s animated retelling of Gintoki’s antics. 

“Goodness. He sounds like quite the handful.”

“I know! But he helped me out when those bullies from earlier tried to get me. I wasn’t paying attention, Grandmother, but he caught them, and he and Takasugi and I beat them up. Look!”

Katsura pulls out his flip phone and holds it up with pride, displaying a blurry shot of three kids with a few bruises each, all sporting victorious grins. Another four or five kids are fleeing in the background.

Grandmother smiles her sharp knowing smile, and her whole face crinkles like she’s been dried in the sun. Katsura loves her smiles. They remind him of his father. 

“A good child, then, is he?” Grandmother putters around the small kitchen, stirring a bubbling pot; grabbing a bottle of seasoning.

Katsura grins. “I’m gonna try and talk to him tomorrow.”

* * *

“Late again?” Takasugi’s father growls. Takasugi sits down in his assigned spot at the polished wooden table, to his father’s left and opposite his mother’s empty seat. The rest of the long dining table remains cold and empty, as it usually is.

“I was busy.”

“Useless layabout. Got into a fight again, no doubt.”

“Yeah. But I won the fight,” Takasugi can’t help letting a hint of pride show. “This weirdo new kid helped me out. Was pretty fucking cool, actually, even though the new kid annoys the crap out of me.” Takasugi doesn’t mention Katsura. His longtime classmate, so bright and yet so _strange_ , is annoying in a different way than the new kid. He kinda hates Katsura’s effortless joy.

“Don’t get crass with me, boy.” Takasugi’s father’s eyes narrow. “Associating with riffraff is prohibited. Next offense and I’ll bring out the belt.”

Takasugi finally notices the distinct edge to his father’s expression— it’s been a bad day at work; he’s gotten better at telling the difference. He gulps and swallows down his retort.

“Where’s Mother?” he asks instead.

Takasugi’s father scowls darkly. “In the drawing room,” he says, which Takasugi knows is true, but is also code for ‘getting high as a kite.’

Takasugi shovels a slice of filet mignon into his mouth and chews with his mouth open. He can see the veins in his father’s temple throbbing at every noise he makes and he tries to remember to keep his mouth closed, but he forgets multiple times over the course of the dinner.

He shouldn’t be surprised when, after dinner, father brings out the belt anyways.

* * *

Over the first few weeks of the school year, Katsura feels like he’s learning less than he’s forgetting. Their teacher drops words from sentences sometimes, tosses insults around the classroom, swears, or insists that electrons in an electrical current flow both ways at once in a circuit, when Katsura is pretty sure that makes no sense. When he tries to say something about it, the teacher seems to snap. His double chin wobbles and he calls Katsura something that he doesn’t really know the meaning of, but judging from the way Takasugi’s face goes angry red-purple, it’s a bad thing. The next word Katsura _does_ know. He ducks his head to hide his expression.

“Oi. Don’t talk to him like that,” says a lazy voice in the back— it’s the new kid, Gintoki, who is now Katsura’s friend. They’ve been eating lunch together since the second day of school. Katsura knows more things about Gintoki now, like that he loves sweets, and that he lives with his guardian whose name is Shoyo and Shoyo is apparently the best person in the entire universe.

“Silence, brat,” the teacher calls out, defensive. “My classroom; my rules. I can call my students whatever the hell I want.”

Takasugi throws a pencil at him and is rewarded when it sticks him in the flabs around his chin.

* * *

The three of them start walking home from school together— their houses are in the same direction, so they don’t really have a choice. They’ve gotten used to passing by the park, and the little lily pond, and the railway, and then splitting up at the five-way crossroads.

Today, Katsura stops on his way and stares hard at the ducks in the lily pond. They squawk at him. He squawks back and hopes they understand him, and that he’s not accidentally being discourteous. Takasugi looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What’cha doin’?” Gintoki’s hands are above his head and he yawns long and loud.

“Talking to the ducks!”

Gintoki’s silver eyebrow quirks up. “Do they talk back?”

“Hm. They’re not the best conversationalists, I’ll admit.”

“The best _what_?”

“The ducks don’t talk, no.”

“Oh.”

Takasugi ambles around the pond aimlessly, then stomps one foot in the water on a whim. The ducks vacate the premises in a raucous mob, and his shoe and uniformed pant leg are soaked. Gintoki laughs. Katsura smacks Takasugi on the shoulder. 

“That’s rude, Takasugi,” Katsura says.

Takasugi rolls his eyes. “Sorry.”

He doesn’t look very sorry, Katsura thinks, but Gintoki is still laughing and the ducks have already resettled, so Katsura huffs and smiles back anyways as the three of them walk off together.

* * *

“Another report from school. You attacked a teacher?”

Takasugi prods at the bruise on his cheek. “So what if I did?” That guy deserved it, calling Katsura names like that. He can’t stand it when Katsura bites his lip and his eyes shine with angry tears.

Takasugi _really_ shouldn’t be surprised when the belt is pulled out. Has his father gotten stronger since last time, or is Takasugi just getting weaker?

* * *

“Grandmother!” Katsura says, gently closing the door behind him. “Guess what? I got full marks on the last math test!... Grandmother?”

She’s on the floor, not quite moving but shaking uncontrollably, and Katsura freezes for so long he thinks his brain might be stuck.

A single gasp snaps him out of it and panic floods through him where that numbness just was. He knocks the phone off the counter in his haste, then dives for it and calls the emergency number.

They cart his Grandmother away on a large gurney with wheels. She’s still breathing. Katsura begs to go with them, but he’s told to stay at home and wait for his parents. Frantic, he reasons that he doesn’t want to delay them by explaining his situation, so he agrees, just tells them to help her, quick.

The air is heavy around Katsura as he reheats yesterday’s soba for dinner, alone in the apartment.

* * *

“Takasugi! Takasugi, hey! Come sit with me and Gintoki!”

Takasugi scowls in their direction. Takasugi is currently surrounded by a gaggle of other boys— the popular crowd, with whom he can easily mingle. Many of their parents have contracts with his father. Anyways, Takasugi likes Katsura, but not enough to sit with that cotton swab weirdo. And the two of them and their abject poverty provoke his father’s ire.

“Just because I saved your sorry ass once, doesn’t make us friends,” Takasugi snaps.

Something in his chest cracks a bit when he sees Katsura’s smile fall apart in response. And then a spark of rage— no, jealousy?— starts burning in him when he sees Gintoki scoot closer to Katsura, alarm in those usually dead eyes, and say, “Never mind, we didn’t need brats like him anyways. Show me the lunch you made— is it good? Can I have some?”

That spark of rage doesn’t leave Takasugi for the whole day. Gintoki sits next to Katsura in class now, and sits with Katsura at lunch, and walks home with Katsura and without Takasugi because Takasugi is staying behind for detention— he heard two kids calling Katsura names, so he tossed their backpacks into a ditch and one of the physical education teachers caught him in the act.

After school the next day, Katsura turns left at the gate instead of right.

“Where’re you going?” Gintoki asks, and Takasugi’s glad he asked because he couldn’t quite bring himself to.

Katsura’s usual gentle smile freezes and seems to wobble again, but this time he pastes it back on without trouble, and somehow the knowledge that he can do that hurts more than Takasugi would have thought. How many other times has he pasted on a smile like that? Takasugi thought his effortless joy was always, well, effortless.

“My grandmother’s in the hospital. I’m going to go visit her, and I’m bringing her a get-well gift so she can come home soon.”

Takasugi feels cold all over. He debates saying something; offering comfort; anything. But Gintoki speaks first.

“I’m coming with you,” he declares, and starts off in the direction Zura’d been headed, before stopping all of a sudden and scratching his head. “You’re okay with that, right? Lemme know if you want me to scram.”

Katsura’s smile gains some strength to it, some substance beyond the flimsy mask it had been before.

“I’d be glad if you came with me, Gintoki.”

Takasugi seethes. The popular crowd has already left and now he’s going to have to walk home alone, and all he can think is, ‘I knew Katsura first.’

“Are you coming as well, Takasugi?” Katsura asks gently, and Takasugi’s heart nearly stops. He’s invited? He looks away.

“Y— yeah, I can keep you company.”

Katsura smiles, now true and open. “Thank you. Both of you.”

* * *

“Grandmother’s not getting better,” Katsura says quietly. Takasugi pokes at the lilies on the pond with a large branch that he broke off one of the pine trees nearby.

Katsura sniffs. Then he sniffs again, and makes a sound that is sort of like a hiccup or a sob, and Takasugi blanches— he doesn’t know how to deal with this; he’s so unprepared, he just wants Katsura to feel better— 

Gintoki taps Katsura’s shoulder, then picks his own nose and tosses the snot into the pond. Katsura is momentarily distracted, enough to jump to his feet and screech at how disgusting and unsanitary that is, and Gintoki drawls something wry and Katsura retorts with sharp mockery and they both end up yelling terrible insults at each other which devolve in accuracy until somehow they’re grinning and then they’re breathless with laughter and even Takasugi is chuckling.

It’s a while before Katsura remembers what he’d been talking about before and his expression drops again.

“Sometimes, life is just like that,” Gintoki says. “Unpredictable and scary. And kicks us all in the ass.”

Takasugi kicks him in the ass for that line. It’s not really his fault that this causes Gintoki to fall in the pond, yelling, and in the frantic struggle that ensues, Katsura and Takasugi find out that the pond is actually rather deep and that Gintoki can’t swim.

“I’ll have to teach you,” Katsura says afterwards, dripping wet and with a lily petal entangled in his hair. “We can’t have our Gintoki drowning in mere puddles like that one.”

Gintoki, gasping for breath in the grass beside the pond, mumbles that he’s never touching water again.

* * *

“We ain’t got any of those free lunch programs at this school, no,” says the cafeteria lady, and Katsura’s heart drops.

He needs to pay for his grandmother’s stay in the hospital. He needs to pay for electricity, and water, and rent, and all sorts of other things, and he spent all of last night doing the math and looking things up on his grandmother’s tiny dented computer, and he’d heard about lunch programs, and—

The cafeteria lady seems to see something of the despair on Katsura’s face. She claps a hand on his shoulder.

“Tell you what, kid. You come in here early in the mornings and help out with the kitchen, and I’ll give you food to take home for dinner. I can even pay you a bit. That sound good to you?”

Katsura nods. And then nods again and then he runs into the bathroom and lets himself cry in one of the stalls because his grandmother said it’s okay to cry, it’s okay to run away, as long as the general is still alive at the end of the war. And Katsura will be alive at the end of the war; he knows it. He knows he can make it to the dawn.

* * *

Takasugi’s father drives past them on his way home and sees him at the five-way intersection with Katsura and Gintoki. He waits till they’re home to bring it up, but he saw them. He knows now.

“Men of our class shouldn’t associate with riffraff, Takasugi. How many times will I have to teach you this lesson?”

That evening, Takasugi’s father locks him in the car, then rolls up the windows and slams the garage door shut. Takasugi wonders where his mother is, and if she even knows he’s in here. It’s dark, except for a sliver of light through a crack in the garage door. He wonders if the car windows will break if he pounds at them enough. He wonders if there’s enough air in here to breathe for a whole night.

As he thinks that last thought, he starts to feel like he’s suffocating. His breaths come short and fast. He thinks of Katsura and Gintoki, and how he’s not supposed to associate with them. It’s their fault he’s here. No, it’s his father’s fault. No, it’s his own fault. Is it? 

He thinks of the gasoline in the engine and how, if he had a spark, he could light it up and blow this entire garage to shreds with himself in it. The fire would burn and burn and burn everything away.

Eventually, Takasugi falls asleep. It takes hours. By the time he loses consciousness, he’s afraid of something more than the dark.

* * *

“Takasugi?” It’s Katsura’s voice, somehow gentler than usual. Takasugi cracks an eye open and looks around, and for a moment there’s a deep panic that he’s still in the car.

“Lunch is over,” Gintoki drawls, and Takasugi remembers. Right. They’d been eating lunch. Had he fallen asleep?

“We didn’t want to wake you— you seemed tired.” Katsura himself has the start of bags under his eyes. What a hypocrite. He’s been living alone since his grandmother was admitted to the hospital and Takasugi would bet all his dad’s wages that Katsura isn’t getting enough sleep either.

Katsura yawns and looks at his hands. His head tips over the lunch table as if he’s about to succumb to his exhaustion, and Takasugi returns the favor by poking him awake. Something in his gaze seems empty, Takasugi thinks. Then again, his own expression may very well look the same. Life is a downward spiral. They’re beginning to fall apart, if they were ever even put together in the first place.

But Gintoki is a whole different creature. Gintoki just stares at the both of them with the same dull, dead-fish eyes as ever, and it pisses Takasugi off more than usual. It gets his blood boiling till it feels like his arteries will burst and splatter the room with enough liquid to ignite the wooden walls. He’s about to snarl something at the other boy, just for the sake of doing it, when Gintoki interrupts him.

“I think,” says Gintoki with an air of deep thought and finality, “you guys should meet Shoyo.”

Confusion somehow saps the anger in Takasugi’s veins. “Who’s that?”

“My guardian,” Gintoki replies, and then declares, like it’s a statement of fact: “He’s the best person in the whole entire world.”

**Author's Note:**

> And here we go— the start of a Modern AU starring the best tiny revolutionaries, with a very very small bit of my own personal experiences sprinkled in.
> 
> Second part will be out soon! 
> 
> **Pls bookmark or subscribe to the _series_ , not the fic, if you’d like to know when I post the next part,** because I’m trying to make each of these standalone works. The next one will pick up where this one left off.
> 
> I do write for my own fun. But kudos and comments are very highly appreciated and will light up my tiny shriveled soul. Seriously, I read and value each and every comment, even if I don’t have the social battery to reply until later.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
